I awoke in a cold sweat to see last night's fire burned out, with Lucifer sleeping beside me as if he had fallen asleep in prayer, counting rosary beads of rosewood that spill out in a mala across the floor.
"Did you dream?" he asked over eggs and bacon that morning, smiling dreamily, dressed in acid jeans and a Rolling Stones cherry red tee, in Birkenstocks.
"Yeah, it was like you were controlling them."
He smiles a dopey grin. "Maybe I was."
I throw bacon at him. "Stop doing that, it's giving me dream PTSD."
"Okur, as you say."
"Only people on TikTok can say that."
"How do you know I'm not on cooking and writer TikTok?"
I smack my face. "What are we doing today? It's Saturday. I have daylight hours off."
"Mulciber's maze, and you're third wheeling Beelzebub."
